


Fire In Your Head

by Nevanna



Category: X-Men Evolution
Genre: Gen, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 17:19:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5013262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevanna/pseuds/Nevanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At home with her parents, before she learns to control her abilities, Jean hears enough to doubt that a normal life will ever be possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire In Your Head

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the "window sill" challenge on the Comic Drabbles LiveJournal community.
> 
> The title is from the song "Not Alone" by Patty Griffin.

Jean’s mother rearranges the get-well cards on the windowsill. “Your whole class signed this one,” she says. “That was very thoughtful of them, wasn’t it?”

Jean sits up in bed. “I guess.” No matter what messages her classmates wrote in the card, they’re probably a lot nicer than the thoughts – _weirdo, psycho, probably on drugs_ – that flooded her mind when she collapsed during history class two days ago. By the time she blacked out, she couldn’t separate one voice from another. She hasn’t returned to school since.

“Just try to rest for now, okay?” Elaine Grey leans down to kiss her daughter’s forehead, but stops and draws back at the last minute. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me.” _She needs a lot more help than I can give. The longer she stays here, the worse it is for all of us._

“You’re going to send me away?” Jean whispers.

Elaine’s eyes widen. “It’s not what you think. A friend of ours has offered… well, I should probably let him explain it.” She watches the bedroom furniture quiver, and takes a step toward the door. “Jean, I promise that we will never want to be rid of you. We’ll talk about this when you’re feeling better.”

Jean blinks, and the get-well card sails from the windowsill into the wastebasket. She’s beginning to doubt that “feeling better” will ever be possible.


End file.
